Other Side of the Mirror
by Holy Freedom Fries
Summary: Arthur has been stalked for 2 years, but he refuses to tell anyone. After getting hit by a truck on Alfred's and his wedding day, he has had enough. In pursuit of finding out who - or what - his stalker is, his loved ones get involved.
1. Prologue

My first fic. Sorry if it sucks...

Summary: Arthur has been stalked for 2 years and he refuses to tell anyone. After an incident on his wedding day, he has had enough. In pursuit of trying to find out who - or what - his stalker is, his loved ones get involved. Can he save his friends _and_ find out who this mysterious stalker is?

* * *

Heavy rain poured down on the streets of London, soaking anything exposed to it's raid. A harsh wind picked up, blowing numerous objects about. In the distance, thunder roared and lightning flashed. A lone figure ran through the alleyways, clutching a cloak around their frame, in an attempt to keep dry. The hard winds blew off the hood, revealing a woman with long, pale blond hair. She quickly pulled the hood over her head, running faster. She looked over her shoulder, then quickly turned back. As soon as she turned back, she was blinded by something wet. The hooded women pried it off her face and inspected it. It appeared to be a newspaper, with various words smudged. It read,

_At 2:00 in the afternoon, a limo was hit by a truck at the speed of 98 mph. The truck driver was not found, and no traces were left behind. A married couple and 5 other people occupied the limo at the time, only the couple were severely hurt. They are in critical condition, and are _not _in stable condition. They are still fighting for their lives as doctors are trying their best to heal them. Reportedly, they were just wedded that day. Their friends st--_

The cloaked woman ripped it in half. She smiled innocently, or so it appeared to be, and started walking into a valley, where she disappeared into the darkness. That was all she need to know.


	2. Chapter 1

A certain British gentleman tapped his foot impatiently. Today he had been forced to attend yet another G8 summit, to his dread. He would rather jump off a ten story building, _without a rope, _than to go to that meeting. No-- he would rather pull out every single nail on his toes and fingers, then go to that stupid, overrated meeting! But no, there he was, listening to Alfred rant on and on about global warming.

Arthur pulled out the small book he bought yesterday and started to read. Apparently some prince thought it would be a jolly good idea to trade places with a beggar! _Idiot_, Arthur thought to himself. Then he gets all butt hurt over being treated badly, which Arthur scoffed at. His eyes scanned over the pages, absorbing each and every word.

"France you're my backup, China you're…" Alfred continued speaking, but Arthur had drowned his voice out.

Arthur got about half way done when Alfred interrupted his reading in a loud voice, "Arthur! You going to open it?"

"Huh?" he placed the booked down, looking at Alfred, "Open what?"

Alfred pointed to a box with Arthur's name on it, "duh," he rolled his eyes.

He took a retreating look at his book, then trotted over to Alfred and looked at the box questioningly. "Who's it from?"

"Uh," Alfred looked at the sticker placed on the box, "some guy named Kreat. PFFT. What a weird nam--"

"_Hand it over," _Arthur snapped, with a hint of fear in his voice.

"Arthur? Something wrong? I can open it if you want, since your old man hands can handle it," the blond took a Swiss pocket knife out of his famous bomber jacket and held it against the tape.

"_DON'T OPEN IT!_" he screamed, swatting Alfred's hand away.

The room grew silent, and all eyes were on Arthur.

Alfred put his hands up in defense, "OK, whatever you want, Iggy."

If it weren't for his terror, he would have decked Alfred for calling him that again. But more important things were at hand.

"I-I'll open it. In private," he muttered darkly, forcing a pained smile.

He picked up the fairly heavy box, and headed for a vacant room. The hall was empty with the exception of a few staff members and reporters who managed to make their way in. He could hear some voices from a few rooms, but not many. He glanced at the box in disgust. Why had he picked today? Did he somehow find out when his meeting was-- did he plan on getting his friends involved later for blackmail? What was the sick surprise today? Arthur walked into an empty computer room with outdated computers and other items such as broken and old desks, a few stray papers, and two or three chairs. He slid through the door and quietly shut it behind him. Arthur set the box on a decent looking table and began ripping off the tape. The male immediately noticed a horrid stench, but he ignored it. He, not very eagerly, opened the box. Looking into the box, his eyes widened.

"Uh…ag-" Arthur staggered back in horror trying to hold back his tears, tripping over the table's leg. The table came crashing down on him, along with the box. The box had landed upside down in front of Arthur. He didn't dare flip it over. Never. Kicking the box away, he noticed a letter taped to the bloody bottom of the box. Crawling up to the box, much like a scared child, he snatched up the folded piece of paper and opened it.

It was hard to read the letter because his tears kept obscuring his vision, but he managed to read it.

_Isn't he beautiful? Our baby boy, I mean. He's 12 years old, and he has the cutest angry tears! His name is Peter*. I saw him in the park and I just _had _to take him home, he's just so cute! And look! He has your eyebrows, honey! He's a difficult one, just like you, too. When he grows up, I bet he'll be the president of Sealand or something, he seems to love that 'country', he calls it. I went out shopping for some clothes, and I found a cute sailor suit for him. He still hasn't come out of his shell, and he refuses to eat his food. Which irritated me immensely. So I thought, 'I bet Arthur honey could have better luck with him'. I hope you two get to know each other! I'll send another gift soon, Honey, so don't worry your pretty head over not getting one, 'kay?_

_Love,_

_Kreat _

Arthur stared at the innocent writing wordlessly. He couldn't even sum up his voice to scream. This wasn't the first time, though. And it certainly wouldn't be his last, which terrified him. He had to deal with this for _two bloody years._ Arthur wasn't sure if he could take much more of these 'gifts'. They disgusted him to his limit-- no, beyond his limit. And he wasn't sure when he would snap and go senile, but had to hold on to his will power and go on with his life. Being the target of a psycho who called themselves 'Kreat' had its toll on Arthur to a point where he would go mad at any minute.

A lot of people would have asked, "Why didn't you tell anyone?" He just couldn't. Because he knew they would do something stupid and end up being another victim of Kreat, like this Peter. Arthur was _not_ going to let that happen, even if it meant his life. He was not so selfish as to get his friends killed, along with himself. No. He would just have to endure this torture until he either got killed, or the gift giving and stalking quit. The likely of that second option was very slim.

He sat on the floor, sobbing. Arthur had tried to blink them away, but they kept coming. So here he was, sitting on top of a broken table with red, swollen eyes, and possibly a sprained ankle. All he needed right now was to calm down quickly, so he could get back to the others. Racking his brain for ideas to calm down, Arthur fiddled with a splinter. Which proved to be a bad idea, because he pricked himself hard.

"BOLLOCKS!" he yelped.**

The door creaked open and the hallway light spilled into the room. Arthur shot his head in the direction of the intruder. There was a person standing in the doorway, but he couldn't make out a face because the light from the hallway was to bright. The person quickly spotted him and walked in his direction. Arthur scrambled backwards, not sure of what to think or say.

"I wasn't doing anything!" he managed to get out.

"You sure? 'Cuz you look awfully suspicious to me," Arthur stiffened at the voice, "Iggy."

"Alfred! Get out!" he yelled, quickly remembering the 'gift'. He glanced in the direction of the horrid box.

"You probably got some corn, I bet," Alfred teased squatting next to the box.

Arthur tried to prevent what he thought Alfred was about to do, but he was to late. He had seen _him.***_

* * *

* Yes, that's Sealand. I'M SORRY D':

** Thank you, sushigal007, for pointing out I spelled bollocks wrong. *bows in the glory of the correct British spelling*

***You'll get to see what happened to him in the next Chapter...

Woah! I actually wrote it! I would like to thank the people who put this on their favorite stories and story alerts! And please review, I don't bite. I promise c:

Updates: Will probably be once every 2 weeks or so


End file.
